previous next

[389]
     Looked round him, awed, subdued,
By the dreadful solitude,
     Hearing alone the cry
Of sea-birds clanging by,
     The crash and grind of the floe,
Wail of wind and wash of tide.
     ‘O wretched land!’ he cried,
“Land of all lands the worst,
     God forsaken and curst!
Thy gates of rock should show
     The words the Tuscan seer
Read in the Realm of Woe:
     Hope entereth not here!”

Lo! at his feet there stood
     A block of smooth larch wood,
Waif of some wandering wave,
     Beside a rock-closed cave
By Nature fashioned for a grave;
     Safe from the ravening bear
And fierce fowl of the air,
     Wherein to rest was laid
A twenty summers' maid,
     Whose blood had equal share
Of the lands of vine and snow,
     Half French, half Eskimo.
In letters uneffaced,
     Upon the block were traced
The grief and hope of man,
     And thus the legend ran:
We loved her!
     Words cannot tell how well!
We loved her!
     God loved her!

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

Download Pleiades ancient places geospacial dataset for this text.

hide People (automatically extracted)
Sort people alphabetically, as they appear on the page, by frequency
Click on a person to search for him/her in this document.
French (1)
hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: